Mr Jasper's Cadenza
by Laurielove
Summary: Over a year after the disappearance of his nephew, John Jasper finds his passion for Rosa undiminished. And it seems she may now be seeing him through new eyes. An 'Edwin Drood' story. John Jasper/Rosa Bud. M content and readers accordingly, please.
1. Chapter 1

**IF YOU HAVE GOT THIS FAR YOU MUST READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES OR THE STORY WON'T MAKE MUCH SENSE! (Sorry they're a bit long, but they are necessary.)  
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**If you want dark, brooding, Victorian repressed (and later unrepressed) lust and passion, you've come to the right place.  
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**Well, I had to do it. I have started this fic due to my utter revelatory passion for Mr John Jasper (as portrayed by Matthew Rhys) in the recent BBC adaptation of Charles Dickens' _The Mystery of Edwin Drood._**

**Before you stop reading, and you've found this through knowing me through HP fanfic, as a dear friend (similarly smitten) says, 'He's basically Snape in a cathedral, isn't he?'**

**And he is: clad in black, tightly buttoned, dark features, dark hair, repressed lust, it's all there. And I want it.**

**And, like Snape, John Jasper is completely ambiguous as a character. Respected, charming in many ways, adored by many, he hides many dark secrets such as opium addiction and an all-consuming passion for his nephew Edwin's fiancé, Rosa Bud (yes, that's her name!), although she herself knows of his desire for her. He has secret opium-fuelled fantasies of killing his nephew and taking Rosa as his. In the original story, she rejects him absolutely, mainly as she is a young, dippy spoilt little brat. Rosa and Edwin do actually break off their engagement, unknown to Jasper. **

**Then one night Edwin disappears and Jasper believes, through feverish memories and visions, that he has killed him, although at this point we are not sure ourselves. The story in the book ends shortly after this as Dickens died before its completion. The BBC adaptation was concluded very cleverly and very well, but my story begins about a year after Edwin's disappearance; we still don't know what's happened to him. Jasper believes he has murdered Edwin, but there is no tangible proof of this, and his life has settled down to relative normality, as has Rosa's.**

**I have written this in third person but predominantly from Jasper's perspective. It is an erotic story. It is entirely about the glorious sexiness of John Jasper and giving him, with lots of explicit detail, what he didn't get in the book. And what he so richly deserved, in my opinion. I loved writing in an archaic style, necessarily, something I haven't done since _Back to the Blue, _and I hope it comes across and works here.**

**It is set in the mid-1800s in the fictional cathedral city of Cloisterham. John Jasper is the choirmaster of the cathedral. There are references to details of certain cathedral services etc, but nothing too confusing.**

**This is how Dickens himself describes John Jasper: _'Mr. Jasper is a dark man of some six-and-twenty, with thick, lustrous, well-arranged black hair and whiskers. He looks older than he is, as dark men often do. His voice is deep and good, his face and figure are good, his manner is a little sombre.'_**

**And as for Matthew Rhys' portrayal. Oh YES! If you Google 'John Jasper Matthew Rhys' you'll see what I mean.**

**Please give it a go. I have so enjoyed writing it (oh yes) and there's plenty more on my HD to upload.  
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**John Jasper is not an entirely good man, but he's not an entirely bad man either. And he is so damn sexy that he needs some lovin', so I'm givin' it to him.**

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><p>'<em>I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart also in the midst of my body is even like melting wax.'<em>

As John Jasper ended the Cantoris verse of the psalm and turned to conduct Decani for the next, his black eyes rose inexorably to the blue-clad figure sitting in the back row of the quire. His hands continued to beat time through the darkly sensual, oppressive words and slow, throbbing pulse of psalm twenty-two, but his being was primed only towards her. Rosa. _His Rosa._ Always.

_My heart also in the midst of my body is even like melting wax._

His own heart dripped heavily. His limbs, his entire body, seeped with longing for her. And now, his desire strained against the compulsion of duty.

But, perhaps due to the presence across from him, John Jasper guided his choir beguilingly through the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis of Tomkins Fifth Service. He sat through the tedious droning of the Canon Chancellor as his toothless gums hissed and spat their way through the readings, his eyes trained only on her, sitting in decorative perfection opposite him. Why, if she was so outraged by his presence, did she insist on sitting in the same place, in full view of him, day in and day out at the services?

When he watched her alive and heated before him, not in his feverish imaginings fuelled by the offerings of Princess Puffer, Jasper could imagine the life he had hoped for.

It was now over a year since Edwin's disappearance. Edwin was dead. Of that he was sure. His mind was still beset with the memory of his nephew's death at his own hands. Jasper played the moment time and again in his mind, remembering it, feeling it. He pictured it, as he had so many times, his black scarf coiled around his nephew's neck, squeezing the life from him to leave the path open for John Jasper to take as was his right, as was his need. And take he would. Only then could he bury the anguish which held him in constant crippling spasms. His lust was stronger than ever, swollen by the passion which had driven him to murder his beloved nephew.

She had left Cloisterham briefly after that fateful day he had spoken to her by the sundial in the garden of the Nuns' House. In her eyes at that moment he had seen little but fear and horror, even he would admit it. But now she was returned, older, grown beyond the misunderstanding and ignorance of youth. And with the passing of time, the horror and fear had been replaced by scorn and derision, emotions he was only too willing to feed off. She no longer avoided him as before, and had even deigned to seek a lesson with him when an evening event approached and she wished to impress with her singing. However, she had failed to attend her last lesson with him, a situation which had precipitated a hurried trip to his dark, dirty house of escape in London. Yet even so, there was a mature awareness about her now which he sensed would play to his advantage. At last she was coming to a realisation of who she was. And who he was.

He would have her. And she would adore him for it.

As he stared at her now, he noted her every movement, her every breath and inclination. His patience was not often rewarded. Her stubborn refusal to look his way merely fuelled his lust yet more. The lace collar around her bodice rode too high for his liking, but through the thin dappled material he trained his eyes on the milky white flesh of her collar bones, rising and falling with urgency of breath. She turned and at long last her eyes fell into his. The light in Rosa Bud's eyes was harsh, cold and defiant. He was used to little else. Her mouth pursed, and she tensed herself against his attentions, against her own weakness should she allow for any semblance of affection towards him. Yet still she did not avert her gaze.

For deliciously protracted seconds, she fed him a ferocious glare, but to John Jasper it was as good as the touch of her hand on his chest, as good as a kiss planted with the promise of deep intimacy on his willing lips. He had told her he would feed off her passionate anger as much as any shadow of love. And now that opinion reinforced itself again.

He stared back, his nostrils flaring. Immediately, he felt himself reacting as was his wont. The slow flame quickly flared, raging through his limbs, and he shifted himself with a smirk. Did she know? Did she know the effect she had on him, sitting in the late dimness of a cathedral on a cold February day? How she brought out burning desire in him simply by one glance?

He could propel himself from his stall, stride across the quire and have her now. It was a fantasy he imagined daily. He would picture himself dragging her away in front of everyone, pulling her fast behind him into the darkness of the Lady Chapel and taking her, bracing her against the hard, ancient stone of the cathedral, listening to her sighs and ragged breaths as he proved what he could truly be for her, ploughing into her over and over, her skirts hitched high, her sweet, pretty legs wrapped around him, dragging him into her until she cried out in shrill rapture and he burst into her at last, filling her with his soul.

"The choir will now sing the anthem, 'Wash Me Throughly', music by Samuel Sebastian Wesley." The voice of the Chancellor echoed into the solemn stillness, but did not resonate with the choirmaster whose eyes were still fixed on the opposite stalls.

John Jasper did not move. The chorister on the end of the row, an ugly boy whose voice was changing in time with the spread of adolescent pox over his face, turned to stare morosely at him in query. He sensed it and at last the connection between Rosa and him was ended.

Throwing a glare at the youth before standing rapidly, he motioned for the choir to join him. He started to beat time for the organist, and the choir duly came in.

'_Wash me throughly from my wickedness and forgive me all my sin. For I acknowledge my fault and my sin is ever before me.'_

The combination of monochromatic notes on the page and the necessity of concentration at last subdued his erection. The words barely registered. When she was present, John Jasper's unstoppable lust invariably hurled him beyond guilt.

Evensong ended. He processed out behind his choir, cursing the slow pace set by the crucifer. If time was wasted, she would make her escape. Once in the Song School, with barely a word to his singers, who looked to him like ardent puppies for a dropped morsel of praise, he threw off his surplice and raced back to the nave just in time to see her disappearing into the cloisters. His strong legs carried him fast after her.

"Miss Bud!" The bass of his voice echoed loudly across the sharp stones.

She did not turn back but kept quick pace with Miss Twinkleton, the mistress from the Nuns' House. Despite becoming eighteen and no longer able to remain on as a pupil, Rosa had been granted permission to continue living there and now helped with the younger girls.

"Miss Bud. You did not keep our appointment last week."

Rosa at last stopped and turned abruptly just as he had caught up. His chest rose and fell heavily with his rapid sprint to prevent her fleeing. He marked her glancing down as it heaved to draw in breath.

"No. I found myself afflicted with a slight chill." Her voice was equally cold.

"I am sorry to hear it. I trust you are now recovered?" He tried to catch her eye. As ever, she avoided it.

"Yes."

"We should make up the lesson. I can see you tomorrow morning if you wish."

Her eyes at last rose to his, azure and limpid. Her slight cheekbones, so fragile, so delicate; he always imagined how easily they could fracture and break. The pure smooth skin stretched so perfectly over them now darkened the slightest amount.

"I am busy tomorrow."

Miss Twinkleton tutted with the delay and moved to the gateway, clearly anxious to return home. Jasper glanced in frustration over at the woman. Thankfully, she was approached by some acquaintances and immediately engaged them in an intimate and prolonged conversation, moving just enough to take her out of view, and, more importantly, removing Rosa and Jasper from her sight. Jasper looked down to Rosa again.

"The day after, in that case."

"Mr Jasper ..." she sighed.

"You know you must continue your training if your voice is to maintain its quality. I have shaped it well, Miss Bud. You will not neglect your lessons with me."

Rosa Bud's nostrils flared indignantly and she stepped into him, resulting merely in an increased burgeoning of his groin. Her voice was kept low but she spat her words out with sibilant grievance. "How dare you insist on my patronage in this way? You know it is not my voice which compels you to request a lesson with me."

He stared down at her, his lust brimming from him and emerging in words spoken freely and with clear desire. "No, my Rosa, you are right. It is your voice and your soul and every ounce of flesh on your body which compels me, and you know it. If you would allow me I would worship each and every part of you in ways you have not yet imagined."

Her cheeks bloomed red. His hand twitched, so eager to reach up and touch. She did not step back.

"You vile, evil and deluded man. Why, when I have told you so clearly before, do you persist in this manner? I do not, nor will I ever desire or love you."

The fierce fire of her eyes compensated immeasurably for the words which he instantly dismissed.

"You fool yourself. I hear your words, but I see nothing in your eyes to verify them. You cannot maintain the blind grievance you bore against me before. You have changed, I see it. Your eyes have been opened, Rosa. Know that you have my heart and my being. And if I had your body, I would worship you day and night and bring you to an awareness of which you could never have conceived."

Her eyes widened but still she conversed with a dark, low intimacy which fed his flesh. "You defile your position within the sanctuary of this building, sir."

"I will defile my soul if it were to bring you to me."

She was so close he could feel the sweet fall of her angry breath on his face.

"Then scourge your soul and your mind, for I feel nothing for you, John Jasper, _nothing."_

"You lie. I can see it. I see more fire and passion in your eyes now than I ever witnessed when you were with him or at any time. You know it." He reached over and placed his hand on her waist, leaning into her and murmuring low and heated in her ear, "Do you feel that burn? _That burn._ _There?"_ She sucked in a breath as his large, strong palm pressed into her abdomen, as his long fingers curled around her slender, constricted waist.

He could bury himself in her right now. _Would God he could._

He felt her breathing, rapid but measured, each drag of air pushing her body against his hand as if seeking it out.

"Yes, yes, you feel it. Good ... _good_ girl. You say it is hatred. You say it is revulsion. But only because you are too afraid to acknowledge the truth. You do not shrink from me now as you used to because you know in your heart and in the depths of your womanhood what it truly is. You say you fear me. You do not fear me. You fear the truth of your feelings. You do not understand them as no one has ever wrought them in you before. I will draw them from you. I will make you understand them and I will make you adore them. You know that. You know I will bring you more pleasure and thrill than anyone ever could. You know my hands on your body will torment and delight you more than any other. I will, my beautiful Rosa, _I will. _No-one else."

"Sir. Remove your hold on my person. Your actions and manner are those of the devil himself." Her words were spoken with strong conviction, but still she did not pull away from his grip.

"I could hold you and feel you and touch you for eternity, my Rosa."

"You offend and despoil me, sir. I cannot ..."

"You can."

She turned her head up to lock into his eyes, those dark, haunting eyes which she found fixed on her at all times, fixed on her so that they invaded her dreams. For indeed, as much as Rosa Bud wished to deny it, as she lay in the dark of night, it was not the clear shining eyes of sweet lost Edwin of which she dreamt, but these eyes, eyes so deep and penetrating they saw into her very soul. And accompanying the burn of those eyes came that heat in her belly, that heat which she had struggled to understand, had interpreted in her youthful innocence as revulsion, that heat which she could not escape from and which now threatened to overwhelm her.

She stared into him. Jasper glanced down at her mouth, wanting to inhabit it so much he let a muffled groan escape him. Her tongue came out, briefly and sweetly to dampen her swollen lips. His breeches were agonisingly strained. And then the flame of defiance in her eyes shifted, shifted but did not vanish, changing from a scarlet burn of hatred to a deep russet of need. He read it well and leapt at the prompt.

"Tell me when to come to you."

Again she tried to deny him, to deny herself, closing her eyes against his insistence, shaking her head. He didn't heed it.

"_Tell me,"_ he repeated with oppressive certainty.

"The day after tomorrow." Her mouth opened and she spoke, whether she had willed it or not. "At ten o'clock."

_Oh sweet success._ The corner of his mouth twitched into a slight grin. "Very well. Until then, Miss Bud."

With that, he released his hold on her and she turned and was gone.

John Jasper watched her go, then striding back down the cloisters, he opened his mouth and sang, his rich, loud baritone making the very stones shake. "No foes shall stay his might, though he with giants fight!'

-xOx-

It had worked. He knew that if he could touch her that she would be his forever. As his hand had moved across the slim heat of her abdomen her breath had caught and she had leaned into him. The girl's convictions were unravelling before him. Either Miss Twinkleton or Mrs Tisher, mistresses of the Nuns' House, usually remained in the room during lessons, but he would contrive a way to be alone with Rosa. And that would be enough.

What would he do? He did not think he could wait. But as she was his destiny, as his entire life was designed merely to have her, he barely saw anything amiss with taking her as soon as he could. He had killed a man after all, had he not? This was barely a sin in comparison. And when she screamed her pleasure to him, the sin would be transformed into virtue. And any hesitation on her part would be banished the first instant she felt him inside her. She would be his forever. And he would devote to her his life and his love.

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><p><strong>Oh, Jasper. Yes.<strong>

**If you have the time and the inclination to leave a review, I'd love to know if you found this story through knowing me, laurielove, or through looking for a Dickens story. I wish ffnet allowed for more specific Dickens' categories, but they heap all his works in together.**

**More very soon, I promise.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the interest in this fic and for the reviews. **

**No long author's notes this time. Just bear in mind that this is an erotic story; it is not an attempt at finishing Dickens' mystery (although things will tie up eventually). And it is about to contain a lot of sex. **

**Just one note: The Nuns' House is a boarding school where Rosa lived and studied. In this story she is over a year older and no longer a pupil, but still living there as a helper.**

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><p>On the day of the lesson, John Jasper arrived at the Nuns' House at six minutes before ten o'clock. As he was shown into her parlour, Miss Twinkleton was taken aback to see such a broad grin on the face of the surly music master.<p>

'Good morning, Miss Twinkleton. And how are all your charges today?'

"Good morning, Mr Jasper. We are all very well. And what finds you in such a generous mood?" she asked curiously.

"It is a fine morning," he declared. She glanced out of the window. It was raining. Jasper continued, "I am here for a lesson with Miss Bud. Is she ready for me?"

"I believe so. I am pleased to see you taking up your lessons with Miss Bud again. I do not know, however, how much longer you will be able to teach her here."

"Oh?" A sudden panic gripped him.

"As she is now eighteen, Miss Bud intends to move out soon, to seek accommodation elsewhere in the town, accommodation more suited to a young, independent lady. And, indeed, we have little enough room as it is."

His soul settled.

"Surely you will not kick her out into the gutter?" he smirked.

"Hardly into the gutter, sir. You know as do I that Miss Bud has a significant inheritance due her. But still, a young lady needs further security in life. And after the loss of poor Mr Drood ..."

"Indeed." He cut her off suddenly, his face darkening. "I should begin my lesson. Miss Twinkleton ... in my past experience, I find that Miss Bud sings best in lessons, when of course one is trying to release inhibitions and insecurities, without an audience. May I suggest you do not need to sit in on our lesson today? From a musical point of view it would be advantageous to her."

Miss Twinkleton visibly stiffened. "Mr Jasper, that is a highly unorthodox request."

"Surely not. I have been teaching Miss Bud for many years. And, as you yourself said, she is now an independent lady ..."

Miss Twinkleton tensed, but glanced over at the newly delivered _Illustrated London News_ and large tray of cakes which awaited her. "Well, if Rosa is happy ..."

"It is Rosa who wishes it. She prefers it that way."

"I see." Miss Twinkleton managed a slight smile. "Very well. Mary will show you to the music room."

The maid led him out and Jasper paced after her rapidly.

Rosa was already standing by the piano, her back to him, when he arrived. She looked once at him, her face stern, before turning away to stare out of the window.

"Good morning, Miss Bud."

She gave no further acknowledgement. The maid glanced at them curiously before leaving and closing the door. They were alone.

"Where is Miss Twinkleton?" asked Rosa with affected coolness, her eyes trained outside.

"I suggested to her that you sing better without her company."

"And she agreed to this?"

"She trusts you."

Rosa spun around with an indignant laugh. "It is not me she has to trust, Mr Jasper! The rightful question is, can she trust you?"

His face became grave. "I do not care whether she trusts me or not."

She swallowed hard, then, with a slight exhalation of breath, Rosa moved closer to the piano. "Come then, let us begin."

He was confused. After all that had transpired between them in the cloisters, was he now to be treated so dismissively again? He approached her. She averted her eyes.

Jasper did not speak, simply stood a mere foot from her, his eyes searching her, his breath heavy with frustrated desire. He could have her now, force himself on her, but then her eyes looked sharply to his. He saw in them, suddenly and hypnotically, a dance which had never been present before. Gone was the harsh antagonism; it had been replaced by a teasing brightness which entranced him even more. His soul pranced chaotically.

He would play her game.

"The piano awaits you, Mr Jasper. Or have your fingers suddenly forgotten their purpose?" A pale eyebrow rose teasingly. His blood was so hot in his veins he could feel its frantic progress round his body.

Clearing his throat, he flicked the tails of his coat back and seated himself at the stool. "Rising arpeggios, Miss Bud. To 'ah', please."

She opened her mouth and began to sing, staring straight ahead. She did not have a voice which would ever gain her recognition, even in a shilling music hall, but he could listen to her soft, earnest, flat tones all day. With her his patience was infinite, something of which his choristers never benefitted.

While she sang, as all good singing teachers should do, his eyes never left her body, trained as they were on her mouth, her chest and her abdomen. However, whereas most vocal technicians would be watching for signs of breath control and vocal posture, John Jasper studied Rosa Bud with very different thoughts in mind.

After she had completed her exercises, she glanced down in dispassionate query; she knew the limitations of her voice and her music master's true opinion.

"Beautiful," he stated.

"You are a liar."

He smirked. "Oh no."

She looked at him with no discernible emotion. "Shall we continue?"

He reached into his case for some music. "The Oak and the Ash."

It was one of her favourites; she allowed herself a slight smile as he played the introduction.

"_A North Country maid up to London had strayed, although with her nature it did not agree ..."_

He watched her all the while, his eyes never leaving her. He was more than content to do so, but when she strained hopelessly to reach the high note his musical sensitivities at last rose to the fore. He snatched his hands away from the keys and glared up at her.

"No, no, no, your breathing is atrocious. What have I told you time and time again? You cannot release so much air while you rise to that note. Control. It is about control. From here." He slapped his own stomach, tightly held into the black brocade of his waist coat. Her eyes flitted to it. "Try again."

She did. Again, the note eluded her, considerably.

He stood up, his creative pique raised at her failure to respond to him. "No. Not good enough. From here." He put his hand once again on his abdomen, then suddenly grabbed her wrist and placed her palm tight upon him. He was honed and solid, he knew it, with a physique which came from years of walking off his frugal diet with miles every day to escape the devils which beset him. He noticed her eyes flare.

"Listen and feel." He opened his mouth and sang up the scale, his deep rich voice penetrating into her body. As he sang, the muscles of his abdomen hardened further. She pressed her hand tighter into him so that she could feel the hard heat through the cloth.

"Once more." He repeated the scale and moved in a step further. Her hand pressed harder against him so that he could feel the indentation of each finger.

His manhood was as hard as rock. Had she noticed? He wasn't sure. She was so close, her small hand still tight on his belly. Her eyes came to his. "Can you feel that, Rosa?"

She nodded, slowly, almost reluctantly removing her hand.

"Your turn."

He leant down to play her starting note but remained standing beside her.

This time when she sang the tone which emerged was weaker than ever.

Jasper moved behind her. "No." Now his words were poured, low and soft, into her ear. "Like this."

Then, with slow deliberation which he eked out as long as he could, he placed his hands on her waist and drew them round to the front, pressing them tight against her stomach.

Her body drew in air desperately, rising and falling fast against his hands.

"Sing for me," he whispered, his breath caressing her hair.

She tried; barely a sound came out. His hands gripped tighter.

"Try again."

She did. It was getting worse. He didn't notice; he didn't care. He hadn't heard a note. His cock was so engorged it was straining painfully for release.

He did not let go, but neither did he ask her to make any more sound. His hands held her so tight she could scarcely breathe, and then, with a barely concealed groan, he pulled her back so that she was brought up tight against him and his legs were engulfed in the deep materials of her skirt.

"Rosa," he slurred as his hot breath stirred her hair. Then his head descended and – _oh longing_ – he brought his mouth down to the pale smoothness of her bare neck. She sucked in a sharp breath.

"What are you doing?" Her words did not sound amazed or horrified or scared, merely anticipatory. He gave her no answer, save for opening his mouth and breathing warm and moist onto her, allowing his lips to savour the sweetest taste of her flesh, skin for which he had longed.

Her breath hitched and he felt fingers curling over his hands. He expected them to tug him away, but with belly-curling joy they instead gripped onto his and pulled him in to hold her tighter still. He stifled a moan against her neck. This prompted her head to fall back, baring more skin. He devoured it, now letting his tongue flit out to taste the soft, peach-like flesh presented to him.

His cock was rigid, and instinctively he ground it against her. She pushed her backside towards him. Could she feel his urgency even through the layers of her clothing?

"Stop, stop this ... please stop ..." But even as she spoke one hand had reached up to tangle in his thick black hair and hold him hard against her.

"You see ... I was right," he said with a low rumble which vibrated against her exposed neck.

"No, no ... you are wrong. You are cruel and calculating ... you are a demon. You cannot do this ..." Her words, sighed out, lacked any conviction.

"You want me. Say it, Rosa, say you want me."

"I ..."

"Say it!" He opened his mouth and brought it down to suck hard on the tender join between her neck and her shoulder, his teeth grazing her.

"I ... I want you."

"Good girl."

All the while his hand had been pulling up her skirts and underskirts and reaching underneath. She did nothing to stop him. He remained behind her, allowing her to rest along his tall, firm length. He was well enough versed with the underwear of ladies, even fine ones, to make light work of its intricacies. He soon found the route for which his fingers were searching.

Jasper turned his head to glance at her face. She was staring determinedly ahead, her mouth parted a little, her soft breasts rising and falling rapidly. But she was passive in his hands, allowing him to quest deeper towards the enticing warm heat of her core.

He said nothing now, but allowed his regular fall of breath to warm her as his fingers found the slit in her drawers. Her breath caught and her eyes flashed, but still she was compliant.

Her thighs were slender and slight and he worked as tenderly as he could higher and higher. Jasper was impressed with his own restraint. Years of longing were coming to fruition, and at this point, despite his erection paining him with need, he wanted only to feel her come undone on his fingertips.

He touched soft curls, downy and giving, and his eyes almost closed in wonder, but he forced concentration to reassert itself and instinctively moved down until the hairs thinned and he felt at last warmth and wet. Her. _Rosa._

He exhaled long and low against her neck. Parting her carefully, he slid one finger down between her folds. It was not difficult. She was so wet it took even him by surprise. His fingers could barely differentiate between the soak of her lust and her flesh. But dragging his finger back up, pressing flat and long through the valley of her womanhood, he grazed that tight nub of flesh he sought.

Rosa sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes darted about, unseeing.

One hand clasped her skirts up around her waist while pulling her tight into him and her hand now dropped to it and held him there, her fingers digging almost painfully into his muscled forearm even through his sleeve.

Jasper began concertedly to build her pleasure.

He had imagined this girl every day, every hour, for longer than he could admit, imagined entering her, imagined bursting into her, imagined losing himself in her, but now that he had her, he wanted only to give, only to render her helpless on him. He could tell from the sheer look of bewildered bliss on her face that she had never climaxed before; the secrets of a woman's body were more difficult to discover unguided. And now it was him, John Jasper, guiding, dictating her discovery, rendering her helpless. A swell of such powerful euphoria swept through him he clasped her yet harder to him, causing her to gasp.

His fingers were assertive yet nimble, teasing and circling then rubbing hard when he knew he'd raised her to the next level of anticipation.

She dragged in a ragged breath and her eyes fluttered shut. She was lost. A smirk ghosted over his features as his fingers continued to plunder the ever-dripping wetness of her sex. That kernel of flesh, that key to her pleasure, had hardened and swollen to such an extent that he knew it would take little more. He rubbed concertedly now, harder and harder, in regular circles.

"Rosa ..." he hummed against her humid skin, "My Rosa Bud ... now you shall bloom."

She gaped, her eyes open but blind, and he heard a slight gasp of amazement dragged sharply into her. And then she was jerking under him, her body juddering as pleasure, for the first time, ripped through it suddenly and ferociously. Still his fingers plied her until he was sure the last ripple of rapture had passed through. And then she slackened.

With a final deep sigh, Rosa slumped in his arms, panting gently.

Reluctantly, but determinedly, Jasper withdrew his fingers and released his tight hold on her, pushing her skirts with dismissive insouciance back into place.

She was leaning on the piano, staring ahead of her, her mouth slack, her face a picture of wondrous revelation, of epiphany. Slowly, after long seconds had passed in silence, she raised her head to look at him, and for the first time ever did so with complete acceptance, with respect approaching awe. His soul lurched rapturously, but with determination, he bent down and gathered his things. Her expression shifted into one of regret, regret which was only there due to her realisation that he was departing. Smug satisfaction coiled through his insides.

"That concludes your lesson for today, Miss Bud. Until next time."

And suppressing the raging lust which threatened to upend him, he turned and walked from her.

-xOx-

Pacing back to his rooms, Jasper slammed his door fast, leaning heavily back against it, and immediately pulled his still-rigid cock out of his breeches and dragged his hand, heady with the scent of her, over the engorged flesh, hard, painfully, not stopping, pumping himself with violent certainty, his face twisted, until he spurted erratically with a groaning heave over the wooden floor of his chamber.

Then, pouring himself a large whisky, he threw it down his throat, his neck muscles swallowing hard and fast. John Jasper contemplated taking himself to London, but for once the compulsion was not there. His fix had come from an entirely different source. Opium merely placed an elusive, transitory cover over his gaping void of need. Rosa filled that void.

He slumped in his chair, his cock at last sated and limp, and smiled. Guilt and confusion and emptiness were subjugated. All was good.

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><p><strong>Oh, Mr J, <em>you<em> are good. More soon. x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter for you. **

**He certainly knows what he wants. But then, so does she. Enjoy. x**

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><p>A delivery boy handed a message to Mr. John Jasper in the afternoon of the following day: Miss Rosa Bud was free for a piano lesson Wednesday next at eleven o'clock. He was to confirm if he could attend or not.<p>

John Jasper read the note over several times, staring at the letters on the page. And then, the passion which coursed constantly through his limbs became too much, and he threw his hands out to the side, flung his head back, and roared with pure unbridled joy.

-xOx—

Rosa only attended a cathedral service once during the week leading up to her next lesson. But on this occasion, the master of the choristers found his stares reciprocated, not with icy dispassion but with entrancing interest. She would hold his eyes and, although her countenance remained implacable for the most part, he was sure that on occasion the corner of her mouth twitched into that little smile she divulged when amused. His own mouth would rise, and so too would his cock. His music flowed through him easily and he conducted his choir with enthusiastic fluidity, although he was grateful for the voluminous concealing robes of his surplice. Many members of the congregation congratulated him afterwards on the quality of the singing and his delightful conducting. He thanked them effusively with charming politeness.

His lesson with Rosa was the following day.

-xOx—

On this occasion, Miss Twinkleton excused herself, declaring she was far too busy to sit in on a music lesson.

"I quite understand, Miss Twinkleton. I think we shall be concentrating on fingering exercises today in any case. It will be most tedious for you."

"I see, Mr Jasper. In that case, I believe Rosa is waiting for you."

He smiled after her retreating form. _Rosa was waiting for him._ How long had he waited for her?

At first she gave him little again. It seemed the way their meetings would proceed. He did not rush things but allowed her her initial silence and the familiar sharp edge to her tone. He began it as a piano lesson and seated himself at the long stool, indicating for her to sit beside him as was usual.

With the slightest flicker of her lips, she did so. She was more flushed than usual. He could only stare at her. She looked determinedly ahead, but her eyes would flicker towards him occasionally.

"Shall we play then, Mr Jasper?"

"What would you like to play today, Miss Bud?"

"It depends what you have for me."

He placed some music on the stand before them.

"Let's look at the left hand, shall we?" He played the bass notes fluidly and easily. "Your turn."

She placed her left hand on the same keys, having to reach across him, brushing against his arm as she did so. She played poorly, as was usually the case. He swallowed back his annoyance in favour of focusing on his stirring groin.

"Try again."

She did. Her fingers worked slowly and ploddingly through the notes as she then spoke. "What you did to me ... last time ..."

He stared ahead at the music, as did she, and his voice came steadily, "Did you like it?"

She continued playing with frequent errors. "It was the devil's work."

"Is that what you think?"

"Yes."

He felt a tug at the corners of his mouth. "Had you never felt that before?"

"No."

"Then you have been wasting your life." Her fingers slipped, perhaps by design, and a discord cried jarringly from the instrument. He ignored it. "Have you been thinking about it since?"

She did not answer.

"Answer me, Rosa."

Her fingers slid from the keys.

"Yes. I have been thinking of nothing else."

His voice darkened as did his desire. "I have much more to show you. Much more to give you. Are you curious?"

"Yes."

He took her hand off the keys slowly and planted a kiss on the open palm, before bringing it down and placing it on his knee, pulling it up so that it began a slow progress up his thigh. Then removing his own hand he allowed her freedom, hoping that she would continue to draw her hand up his leg.

She did.

Not at first. At first she stopped, sucking in a breath of shock. But then her fingers tightened around his leg, enjoying the strong muscle she found there. And there, in stillness and quietude, seated alongside him at the piano, she drew her hand up further, higher and higher, sliding it along his thigh until the tips of her fingers nestled in the crevice at his groin.

He waited. He wanted to take her hand and press it into him. He wanted to grab her and hold her there, he wanted to beg her to carry on, but he simply waited. She would do it, he knew.

Just then the door opened and Miss Twinkleton stepped in. After an initial flare of fury at the interruption, to Jasper's astonishment and delight, Rosa's hand remained exactly where it was. She barely flinched. He fixed his face back to calm restraint.

The woman asked tersely, her eyes brightly prying. "Is everything alright? I could not hear any music, so I grew concerned that one of you ... may be unwell ... perhaps?"

The hand resting perilously close to his manhood tightened then rubbed.

"No, Miss Twinkleton," assured Jasper in his smoothest, deepest and most charming tones, which he knew he could employ when necessary, "all is perfectly well. We are discussing matters of theory today. There will be little playing."

To his delirious consternation, as he spoke, the hand on his thigh was rubbing, plying the tight muscles, stroking through the material of his breeches. He impressed himself that he managed to keep his voice as measured as he did.

"Rosa?" inquired her governess.

"All is well, thank you. The theory requires the utmost concentration." As she said it she was walking her fingertips down the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh.

"I see. In that case, I will leave you to continue."

Miss Twinkleton closed the door yet again.

And then, with barely a pause, but slowly, curiously, and with remarkable assurance, now inclining her head slightly to look down at him, Rosa brought her hand across from his leg and stroked over his growing erection, rubbing along the most tender part, which strained towards her through the cloth.

_Angelic bliss._

He closed his eyes to concentrate on his silence.

"Does that feel ... as you made me feel?"

"Yes ... yes, my darling." He almost sobbed.

She continued rubbing, her fingers occasionally encircling what she could of the concealed shaft, feeling its outline, sensing its growth.

"Show me," she said suddenly, with curious determination.

He glanced at her in shock, but did as she demanded. Almost in awe, but driven by overpowering desire, he reached down and undid the placket concealing him from her. His cock soon burst from his underwear. She gasped audibly in shock; he was not surprised. The male phallus was an interesting object, never more so than when erect. Seeing one for the first time was likely to be a little alarming, and he was, he knew, more amply endowed than most.

Her hand came away at first, not far though - he granted her time - and hovered over it. She stared down, her brows creased with study, not revulsion. "What a curious thing," she stated, her voice lilting.

And then, assured and confident, she brought her hand back and closed her palm over the head. This time he could not prevent himself groaning in rapture. His head fell back but immediately he threw it over again to stare down, enrapt, at the warm hand encircling him.

"It is damp," she observed.

He grabbed her wrist. He had to. Pulling her hand up to him, he turned the palm up and spat thick into it. "Use it," he demanded. She creased her brows a little more then brought her hand back and began to rub over him.

John Jasper's hands gripped the piano stool so hard he nearly broke it.

"Do you like that?" asked Rosa with an open inquisitiveness.

"Hmm." He could only mumble. She had a natural intuition, smoothing over the head before stroking down the full length of the shaft with dextrous pliancy.

"Harder," he hissed. She complied and now took it in two hands, working both with remarkable efficiency up and down the swollen flesh, which dripped its need relentlessly from the tip.

Rosa tilted her head to the side as if studying a valuable, intriguing specimen. "I like holding it. It is an extraordinary thing. It feels like no part of a human I had ever imagined." He groaned. Her anatomical analysis of him was, at this point, wasted; he couldn't hold back.

"You are magnificent," she concluded, her tone now soft and enthralled, and with that he came hopelessly into her hands, spilling his thick white seed chaotically onto her palms and fingers with a loud groan of satisfaction.

Rosa simply stared down at her hands, dripping with the warm remnant of his rapture.

A sudden shame washed over Jasper and he fumbled for his handkerchief, wiping her hands hastily with it in shaking fingers.

"I am sorry, I ... couldn't stop, I ... I am sorry." He hung his head, unable to look into her.

"Is it always as messy as that?" she asked, her voice remarkably even, edged with the curiosity that had pervaded the entire encounter.

He glanced up, his dark eyes alight again. His mouth twitched into an incredulous smile. "Often, yes."

"I had not realised. How curious. And when that happens ... do you ...?"

"What?"

"Do you feel ... as you made me feel?"

He nodded.

She exhaled quickly and raised her chin, staring out ahead of her before standing abruptly. "I have other things to attend to now. You will have to leave."

Jasper folded his soiled handkerchief carefully and pocketed it, then stood, clearing his throat, suddenly more at odds than he had been for some time. Her decorum throughout the process, her curiosity, her assertiveness all unsettled him but only to steer him along a different path, one where his mind worked quickly to imagine situations he had barely conceived of before. He wanted her more than ever.

He stared hard into her, his face grave with newly revealed passion, passion which was suddenly reciprocated in a way he had not imagined. Rosa stared back steadily and walked to open the door. She was dismissing him. But she would have him back, of that he was certain. For now, he was content.

But just as he reached for the handle, she stepped between him and the door and looked up, almost confrontationally.

"Do you know, despite all that has transpired between us ... you have not yet kissed me, John Jasper."

"No."

He had not. Did it surprise him? Her mouth was the most beguiling, succulent part of her, a part which had lingered in his vision to torment him day and night. Why had he not done so yet? It seemed perhaps too intimate, too personal. Was she ready for that?

She held his gaze rigidly and again he noted her tongue as it came out to dampen her lips.

Kiss.

_Kiss that mouth now._

Putting his case on the floor he brought his hands up slowly to cup her face, searching over it, memorising once again every little valley and rise and line and indentation which he already had etched on his mind. But now it was here before him as he had imagined so often, but never yet attained. Here before him, given, bestowed, for him, _for him._

Her eyes flickered away to his lips and he couldn't prevent them curling up in anticipation of the moment. He drew closer, moving so slowly towards her he knew she would be growing desperate. After her manner of earlier, he suddenly felt the need and opportunity to regain some control.

Just as he was about to make contact with the warm, dusky, plump softness, he paused and murmured instead, "You said you hated me."

"I do."

"You said I repulsed you."

She swallowed and didn't respond. He waited, not moving forward, simply holding her head close, but not quite close enough, to his, feeling power fall back into his hands, relishing the electric spark which flashed through him as it did. Finally, she sobbed. "Please ..."

His soul leapt with exhilaration. "What?"

"P ... please," she repeated, a tear threatening to tumble from her eye.

"Please what?"

"Please ... kiss me."

Jasper at last brought his mouth to hers.

Despite all that had gone before, this was the moment. This was the moment of pure, perfect joy: all his hopes, all his longings, encapsulated in the now.

At the joining of their lips he felt only warm sweet perfection. For a time he remained still, and she was content to absorb the stillness, but then he heard a slight catch in her throat and he moved, slowly at first, gently, nudging her mouth with his. He held her with his hands but her own fingers came up and gripped his head, pulling him into her.

Desire reared up yet again and he had no option but to deepen the kiss. He moved harder over her lips now and a thrill raced through him as he felt her, not recoiling, but welcoming it, building it, giving to it. Rosa's mouth pressed into his and her fingers tightened in his hair with a sharp tug. It brought another strain to his pelvis and he pushed her hard back against the door. It was she who opened her mouth first and her sweet honeyed breath floated into him.

And then he did something that he had only ever done with the most licentious Whitechapel whores. But this was not debauched and depraved, this was right, so perfect and so right, not for him but for her. _All for her._ Pushing her mouth harder open with his, he slipped his tongue slowly in, allowing her time to pull back if she wished. But she did not.

Rosa instead reacted with perfect equanimity. She allowed his tongue to taste and explore the warm wet bliss of her mouth, but then she gave more. When he flitted against her own tongue, she did not retract it, but played with it. And then more, until soon their tongues were mingling and dancing exotically. His breath came hard through his nose now and necessity compelled him to tear himself away from her mouth for a moment to drag in air.

"More, more," came her sighed demand and she tugged him back up.

"More? I will show you more, my heart, my soul. I will show you more than you could ever dream." His voice was low and rasping now, reflecting the dark need rearing through his soul to his limbs.

And his hands were on her again. His lust rampaged through him and this time he knew he could not stop. His fingers became claws, tearing over the material of her dress, frustrated by it, desperate for it to vanish. One hand dragged down under her thigh, and pulled her leg up forcefully around him. His lips were harsh and bruising now, but she merely took and took, opening for more.

"Yes, yes ..."

His lust and his mouth and his hands and his cock would devour her.

And then the door handle rattled and an indignant voice called from the other side: "Rosa Bud! Unlock the door!"

They broke away in shock, deprived of their all-consuming passion. His lungs pained with the denial of air.

With the wicked swiftness of a fairy, Rosa straightened herself and her clothing. Jasper attempted in his delirium to do the same. In the next heartbeat, she had opened the door wide with a brilliant smile to her employer and erstwhile teacher.

"Oh, it was not locked, Miss Twinkleton. It must have become jammed. Mr Jasper was just on his way out, weren't you, sir?" She beamed at him. He held his case carefully before him to conceal any protuberance.

He inclined his head to the ladies. "Indeed. It has been a most productive lesson, but is all too soon finished."

Miss Twinkleton seemed convinced. "And how is our little Rosa progressing?"

"Most admirably."

"Miss Twinkleton, you forget, I am no longer little. I am eighteen now. Able to find my own way in the world."

Miss Twinkleton laughed a little and did not seem convinced.

Jasper smiled. "Eighteen you may be. And yet ..." He turned to fix his eyes on Rosa. "... there is still much I will teach you."

"I am delighted that my progress pleases you, Mr Jasper. I eagerly await our next lesson. I do enjoy that aspect of study so much. I am not sure I can contain myself until the next time."

He nodded, holding her gaze again, and smiled before placing his hat on his head and departing. "I'm sure you can find ways to practise in the meantime, Miss Bud."

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><p><strong>More soon. x<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we are. Quite an intense chapter. If you know it, it does have hints of 'Back to the Blue', for reasons which will become clearer as you read. **

**And ... like someone else I know, I couldn't resist. Again, you'll see what I mean when you read. Very naughty of me as it's at quite a crucial moment. Had to do it though. ;-)**

**Thanks for all the reviews. Sorry I haven't responded to everyone - ffnet makes it so hard to keep track of who you've replied to.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>His own schedule precluded him from further music lessons over the forthcoming days. And Rosa remained sequestered away in the Nuns' House, minding and tending to the pupils under the watchful eye of Miss Twinkleton.<p>

The shadowy torments which hounded John Jasper began to return. As he sat in his chair, with only a single candle for company, his mind dragged him back once again to picture the scarf wrapping around Ned's neck, tighter and tighter. And where was Rosa in this? At a time when she could at last exist in his vision as an equal, where he could turn to her after the deed and find her smiling, arms apart to welcome him, she was not there. In his visions he would spin, searching for her, and find no sign.

He slept little, living only for a glimpse of her around the Close, for her attendance at Evensong. His body tormented him, pressing him to go to London, urging him to seek relief in the vivid balm of Princess Puffer's pipes. Laudanum provided barely enough to ease his cravings.

If Rosa had not attended the Eucharist on the Sunday after, he would most likely have taken himself to London the next day.

He had not been expecting to see her. She had remained away from the cathedral for over a week. He resisted fearing her disinterest; he knew Miss Twinkleton kept her busy, and he too had been kept under the dogged thumb of the Dean with Passiontide fast approaching. But this protracted absence was tormenting him. His body was tense with coiled need at all times. His temper flared and his choristers found themselves on the receiving end of many a barbed outburst. Nobody had complimented him on his charming conducting this week.

He was standing to conduct the anthem, the shuffling congregation passing alongside him towards the high altar.

'_Sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aquarum ...'_

Jasper's right hand extended to draw out a particularly rapturous phrase and, with inadvertent but heaven-sent luck, he found his fingers brushing the shoulder of a woman walking past him at that moment. It was Rosa.

She turned to glance at him. For a mere moment their eyes locked, and the lust which had gripped the last time did so again. It was as if he had been plucked up and turned upside down. Fortunately, his hands continued to beat instinctively, but his eyes departed from his choir, left his music to stare only at her. He wanted to follow her, to walk beside her, take her elbow and guide her, and keep walking, walk and walk and run until they found themselves far away in green and grass and meadows and trees and there he would place her down and worship her and adore her and possess her.

But he remained in his place, his duteous feet planted, even if his mind and soul did otherwise.

Rosa continued moving through the quire towards the altar. Her dress splayed out around her as she knelt. Jasper remembered how he had hitched up that same skirt; he remembered what he had discovered underneath, he remembered how she had felt, how she had sounded as her pleasure had been pulled from her on his fingers.

"_Ita desiderat anima mea ad te Deus."_

The choir finished the anthem and looked to him to be seated. At first he could do nothing, and stood stock still, his eyes wide, staring up towards the altar, but when the large Decani bass coughed loudly to alert him, he motioned his hand down and then sat himself. She moved off, disappearing into the side aisle, and he cursed the slow passage of time as the service plodded to a close.

Afterwards, he once again hurried back, searching her out. Jasper was rewarded quickly; she was lingering outside the Chapter House in conversation with Reverend Crisparkle, with the unfortunate, bristling presence of Miss Twinkleton in constant hovering guard over her.

The minor canon turned to him as he approached. Jasper remembered to greet all three of them politely.

"Mr Jasper. Thank you for a fine service," beamed Crisparkle.

"I enjoyed the anthem greatly, Mr Jasper." It was Rosa who had said it, granting him leave to lock eyes with her. "I am unfamiliar with the composer."

"Giovanni Perluigi da Palestrina. One of the greatest Renaissance composers, Miss Bud. Rich, lustrous and deeply satisfying."

"An _Italian_, Mr Jasper?" interrupted Miss Twinkleton. "We are in an English cathedral, in an English town, and has not England produced the finest composers? Is our English music not good enough for you?" She tutted indignantly.

"Indeed, we sing the glorious work of our own composers at practically every service, Miss Twinkleton, but on this occasion, I felt the emotion and sheer beauty conveyed in Palestrina's setting expressed the desire and longing necessary better than anything else."

"_Like as the hart desireth the water brooks, so longeth my soul after thee ..."_ said Rosa, clear and crisp into the cathedral air.

He held her gaze. She was looking back at him steadily, her eyes not flickering.

"You know your Latin well, Miss Bud," he stated with a smile, his heart leaping when she returned it softly.

_My soul is athirst ..._

His eyes were glued onto her and she, in her quiet, still intensity, stared back into him. That familiar weight pressed down on his chest yet again and the heat in his breeches grew persistent. Still she did not look away. The others faded, as if the stones themselves had swallowed them up.

"I daresay a little foreign influence is not unwelcome, as long as it is tempered with some of our own music. What is planned for Evensong, Mr Jasper?" Reverend Crisparkle's buoyant enquiry was left dangling.

"Mr Jasper?" prompted Miss Twinkleton tersely.

At last Jasper remembered himself and turned with bemused query to the canon, managing to listen afresh to the question in his memory. "Tallis. Salvator Mundi. And the canticles are the Byrd Second Service."

"Ah, you see, Miss Twinkleton," smiled the canon. "Normal service is resumed."

"Well, Mr Jasper, I find my tastes have changed as I have matured. I now find I like things to be a little exotic." Rosa's eyes danced.

Instantly, his desire almost overwhelmed him. Smiling as gently as he could, he asked immediately with taut need, "Miss Bud, when shall I next visit for a less –"

"Rosa. Come. We have loitered long enough. Mrs Tisher will be expecting you in the dining room. Good day, gentlemen." He was cut off by Miss Twinkleton's insistence, and Rosa had been pulled away before he could even bestow her with a smile of farewell.

His belly and cock ached, but his loss was partially offset as her head turned and she fed him the flame of her eyes until disappearing around a corner.

"Well, Mr Jasper, luncheon beckons. You look famished; would you care to join us? I know Mama has plenty prepared."

Jasper smiled warmly at his gentle, virtuous friend; the good reverend had no idea it was not desire for roast beef which caused the tension in the choirmaster's stance. "Thank you, Reverend, but I'm afraid I have prior arrangements." And nodding his head, he paced quickly back to his rooms. He was hungry and thirsty and would remain so, but it was not food and water for which he longed.

Laudanum was all the lunch Jasper managed. He needed her. His body wanted her as never before. If he didn't have her soon he would do something foolish, he knew it.

Luckily for him, Rosa Bud was of a like mind.

-xOx-

The weather worsened after Evensong. It reminded Jasper of that fateful Christmas Eve of Ned's disappearance, but on returning to his rooms he dulled the memory with a large glass of whisky.

For once he let his fire rage, stoking it violently, the furious flames as livid and heated as his lust. He stared into them, picturing her as he had seen her that morning.

_So longeth my soul after thee ..._

_My soul, my heart, my flesh._

The wind was rattling the window pane now and rain threatened. He registered it but did not get up to investigate. It was merely weather, after all.

And then there was a knock at his door, low, furtive, almost ashamed. At first he thought he had imagined it, but then it came again.

He stood up, guarded and wary, reaching instinctively for a fire-iron.

With a sombre visage and tight fist, Jasper opened his door.

There, standing outside, damp and shivering, her face masked with a hooded cloak, was Rosa.

They didn't speak. As soon as he saw her, he found himself curiously unsurprised. She stared up at him, her cloak huddled about her. In silence he held the door open and she walked inside, straight past him to stand in the middle of his otherwise barren, obscure room.

He shut the heavy oak door.

Slowly, Jasper looked around to the woman standing in his chamber.

"You said you had much more to show me," she said, her voice remarkably assured.

He simply stared, standing with his long legs apart to brace himself, his white shirt sleeves flapping free in contrast to the midnight blue, buttoned silk of his waistcoat. His cravat rode high up to his neck and he lifted his head to escape the scratch of his crisp collar.

She stood, straight and proud before him, not shying away from the intimacy of his darkened rooms. "I cannot wait. When I saw you this morning I knew I would go mad if I did not come to you soon. I lie in my bed at night, tormented by dreams and visions, fuelled by what has passed between us, but not able to reach attainment, not able to reach fulfilment. I want that fulfilment." She pushed back the hood on her cloak. "I want it now."

For a moment he could barely look at her. "Do you know what you are doing?" he asked, low and wary.

"Yes." He had never heard such determination. "I know. I have willed it."

He stepped up to her, the candlelight flickering over her porcelain features. Jasper wondered momentarily if he might break her. Could her delicate body take him? But looking into her eyes his lust quelled any fears; they burned with a fierce certainty which almost unsettled him.

"How did you manage to come here?"

"I am well-practised in the art of being elusive," she teased.

"You ran away?"

"Only for now. I shall run back again before dawn and no one will be any the wiser."

Her face grew serious again and her hands came up to her clothing.

She shed her cloak; under she wore only her nightwear. His breath caught and his cock leapt.

"I have waited for you for so long, Rosa ... so long."

Taking a certain step forward, she placed her fingers on the dark brocade of his waistcoat, running one hand sensually up to his shoulder while the other curled around his waist. Her voice snaked its way around him. "When I touched you the other day, all I could imagine was what you were like beneath. What you would feel like upon me, holding me, within me."

He could barely speak, but the words came with deep and honest restraint. "You still hate me."

To his great joy she simply smirked. "I hated you for making me feel this way. But now I know. Now I understand."

Her hands were running over him with ever-increasing conviction; he could scarcely breathe. It took all his resolve not to throw her to the floor and take her instantly. "What is different now?"

"You were the dark ... dark and forbidding and unfathomable ... so unlike him: he whom I was told I should love, whom it was expected for me to love, but ... there was so much that remained unspoken, that sat uneasily when you were around. I interpreted it as loathing and disgust. I didn't understand. Now I understand. You have revealed it to me, revealed that which my body and soul were struggling to tell me."

Jasper held himself back, staring with almost cold harshness at her. "You know that by coming here I will take you completely. I will not stop myself, Rosa. I have lived for this moment for too long."

There was a heartbeat of a pause before she answered him with staggering certainty. "I want you to take me completely. I want you to take me now."

He forced himself to turn away and paced to the credenza, pouring himself another whisky, his hands shuddering inexplicably. A sudden sweep of morality forced out his next words. "And what of marriage? Is that of no matter to you?"

She barely paused. "I will not wait for marriage. What you have shown me does not need the dictates of marriage to flourish." He needed to hear no more. Her voice was arrow straight, piercing through any lingering doubts, any fragile principles.

He tossed the whisky down his throat. His cock tickled in his breeches, niggling him to hurry.

"I need to ask you ... when did you last ... bleed?" He was about to break through her corporeal innocence with no hesitation but his face flushed as he asked the question.

She answered more clearly than he had asked. "I finished only two days ago."

_Perfect._ His fingers fussed over the rim of the glass into which he continued to stare. His determination and need were undiminished, but his responsibility towards this girl whom he so adored struck suddenly and forcefully. "That is good. We must be careful."

He looked back to her, his eyes fierce with desire and certainty. As she held his stare, she stepped out of her wet slippers and started to remove her night dress.

"No!" He rushed over and pulled her hand away with a flare of aggression. _"I will do it._ I will do everything."

So she stood, and with hushed reverence, he at last brought up a hand and tugged at the ties which held up her nightclothes. They loosened from around her neck, enough for her shoulders to be unable to support them, and then fell to a soft pale pool on the ground, instantly revealing her naked beneath.

John Jasper stumbled back, overwhelmed by the vision. Rosa stood, quiet and still, her arms limp by her side, not attempting in any way to hide her nakedness.

He brought a hand to his mouth and stared.

"Rosa ... my Rosa."

"Yes. Yours."

And, driven by a force beyond his control, John Jasper fell to the ground before her and clasped his arms around her slender legs. He let out a sob of longing fulfilled at last, and immediately began an adoration, a veneration of her body, stroking up her narrow calves, kissing, caressing, smoothing as he went. She let him.

His lips and hands stroked and explored every inch of her, rising up, higher and higher. He deliberately and with great effort avoided that perfect area he so longed to possess and shut his eyes tight as he moved beyond it, there was time aplenty for that now, instead continuing up to her smooth belly.

Here, he kissed and nuzzled with sudden gentleness, his fingers tender and exploratory. At last she sighed out, slow and long, and placed her hands on his head, almost in blessing. He heard her little gasping breaths as he built her need and her desire. And then he was level with her breasts and for a time he could only stare. They were not large, but round and soft, with dusky pink nipples which were already hardening in the cool air. He drew her closer to the fire, not only to warm her, but to stare at the round perfection of them in the amber glow, noting with deepest pleasure how the firelight danced over them, their shadows shifting and enticing him. His hands rose up and he cupped them, lifting them a little, knowing the gentle relief that it would grant her. She responded as he had hoped, exhaling. And then more. His thumbs rose up and stroked over the tight pink buds of twin flesh that sat so pertly amidst the downy flesh.

Rosa sucked in a breath. He glanced up. Her mouth was parted, her eyes bleary with expectation. He did it again and she caught her breath. Jasper smirked unwittingly and did the only thing a man could do.

Lowering his head, he opened his mouth and enclosed it upon the left nipple.

"Ah!" The sound emerging from Rosa travelled straight to his groin which by now had dampened his breeches almost uncomfortably.

She was all the sustenance, all the opium, all the food and drink he needed. He sucked and pulled and laved his tongue over the nipple which swelled and danced and hardened in his mouth. Both his hands now held the breast, pushing it out so that the nipple was propelled deeper yet in a point of sheer sensation. He flicked his tongue rapidly, drawing out the response he craved. She almost wept and her fingers curled in his hair, holding him tight onto her.

And then a little nip. He couldn't resist. He caught the little rigid flesh between his teeth, so lightly at first she would not notice, but then he closed down on it, until the bite would register in her mind and the depths of her body.

But still only a sharp exclamation of pleasured delight escaped her and still she clasped him to her. Jasper grinned, burying his expression of satisfaction in the soft down of her breast.

He tugged the nipple one final time hard between his lips and pulled back, dragging it out before letting it pop from his mouth. He dared to glance up at her. Her eyes were closed and her face held an expression of complete abandon.

"Do you like that?"

She bit her lip and nodded, unable to form words. He demanded them.

"Tell me. Tell me how much you like it."

"Heaven ... surely like being in heaven ... you are an angel, you must be an angel ..." She was barely speaking, only moaning, trying to guide him back to her breast.

"No ... not an angel, not boy ... Man. I am Man." And with that he plunged onto her other breast. She groaned this time, not a gasp or sigh, but a groan of happiness from so deep inside she did not hear it.

For several minutes, they were utterly absorbed in each other, mouth to breast, hand on head, fingers curled around the naked perfection of her waist.

But then she moved her leg, inadvertently, and nudged against his cock. He broke away with a gasp, reminded of his own need.

She saw the shift in his eyes, noted the determined set of his jaw.

Jasper stood tall but brought his head down and kissed her, surprisingly softly. And while he kissed, his hand slipped down the heat of her body and moved between her legs, sliding in as he had done that first time. He pulled back to watch her reaction. Her eyes widened and she looked into him, open, pleading.

She flooded his fingers with her desire. Part of him wished to stay there, touching her, feeling her ecstasy so real and vital on his fingers again, but his cock once again throbbed its urgency.

"Ready," he stated. It was not a question.

She nodded: a little nod, but containing no prevarication.

His hand slipped from her warm wetness and he encircled her wrist. Not looking back at her, he walked, tugging her behind him to his bed chamber, hearing in the silence the soft, fast pad of her bare feet on the oak boards.

He guided her onto the bed. She lay down, her body entirely unashamed, her arms rising over the covers, her legs parted slightly, already in instinctive welcome.

Now he was desperate. His breath came so fast it pained him and he ripped at his clothing, fumbling for his cravat and pulling it off. He noted her eyes trained with wide-eyed wonder on his hands as he undid the black silk buttons of his waistcoat, one by one. As each button slipped from its eye, her brows creased a little. He pulled the waistcoat from him and tossed it aside. His collar was quickly dismissed and he tore half the buttons of his shirt in his attempt to rid himself of it. All the while she stared, her breasts rising and falling with increasing rapidity as she watched him.

Finally, he could pull his shirt from his broad shoulders. Her mouth fell open a merest fraction as she gazed at his naked torso, the muscles straining for her, the thin dusting of dark hair covering his broad chest. But he could not stop. He reached for the buttons on his breeches and ripped them down, stepping out of the remainder of his clothes with violent rapidity.

He was at last as naked as her. And it was so right. No shame, no hesitation befell him. His cock guided him towards her, compelled him down. She could not take her eyes from it. It rose out, large and hard and strong, rising up higher than he had seen it for some time, pointing the way to her.

He lowered himself onto the bed, kneeling over her, his hands resting on either side. He could not wait.

"I will hurt you the first time."

She simply nodded, not in fear but in acceptance, welcome even.

His hand slid down her until it curled around her inner thigh and pushed her leg aside. Then the other, until she was open and ready.

Glancing down, holding himself, Jasper placed the tip of his cock at her opening, then looking back into her eyes, he pushed forward.

As soon as his flesh was encased in hers, even the slightest amount, John Jasper knew that everything he had done in his life was right. Everything had been guiding towards this point. And he would not stop in going forward.

He pressed in again but immediately could go no further. Rosa cried out sharply and her face twisted in pain. But his desire had thrown him beyond remorse, and he felt only a further surge of lust hurtling through his cock. He paused out of necessity, but wanted only to bury himself in her no matter what.

Yet instinctively, his hand came up to stroke her hair, and he found his voice soothing her even as his cock protested at the delay. "Shh, shh, only once ... it will only hurt this once."

She stared hard into him and her hands gripped hard onto his back, prompting him to move again.

His face twisted in determination, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other clasping the bed head strongly. He surged forward, and immediately felt himself breaking through. He groaned aloud with brilliant pleasure.

She screamed, pain ripping through her as he ripped through her untouched flesh. He barely heeded it. He was in her. He pushed in again and again until he could go no further, and his cock rested full and tight and hot and as deep as possible inside her.

Jasper steadied himself, his eyes closed, his breathing desperate, focusing only on the feel of flesh within flesh. She was the tightest thing he could imagine. She was utter happiness. She was his life, his extension of self. He glanced down. Her face was still tense with pain, but she opened her eyes and looked into his. They were glazed with tears, and as he looked, one broke from its perilous hold and ran steadily down her cheek.

Only then did he remember himself, not enough to pull out - he did not believe at that point he could ever do that - but to inquire with a look if she was alright. He was large; his initial inhabitation of her body was sure to be worse than it would have been with another.

But then she did something which tore him away from the temporal. Through her tears, through her pain, she smiled. A soft smile of acceptance and realisation.

He pulled out a little, causing her to grimace again, but he was gentler now and moved slowly through her.

The pleasure was unfathomable. His eyes rolled back in his head but he controlled his pace, withdrawing almost completely and pausing.

But her fingers tightened on his back.

"Back into me." She was asking him. She was almost imploring. Now Jasper felt his own eyes prickling, hot and sudden, and could not prevent a tear forming swiftly to fall onto her breast. She glanced down at it.

Slowly again, he pushed up into her, past the pain, through the tight grip. She was wet, so wet and welcoming; her desire bloomed through her even amidst the agony.

When he had thrust fully into her again she groaned out, not this time in pain, but with completion.

Jasper had done it. She was his.

It was her hips now which bucked, compelling him to move.

He did, slow but steady, stroking his entire thick length along her, in and out, threatening to fall from her each time, but never quite allowing it, pushing up fully, hard, into the hilt, enrobed in the exquisite velvet of her body.

Each time he noticed a pang pass across her face; he could not overcome that this time. And he could not hold back. The moment of fruition rose with rapid inevitability within him and he moved faster again, gripping hard onto her, plunging through her sweet flesh.

Jasper's body constricted desperately and he threw an arm down to steady himself. His back arched, flexing tight, the muscles straining and shifting, and he came. He came so sure and deep, his seed exploding three, four times into her, his mind blinding with the sheer rapture which engulfed him. He opened his mouth and cried out, a guttural wrenching cry which resonated through them both, into the fabric of the ancient stones around them.

John Jasper slumped onto her, gasping in recovering breaths, his body hot and damp with sweat.

A gentle hand rose up to curl over him. He tried to push himself up a little, aware that he must be squeezing the breath from her with his weight, but she prevented it, pulling him down again.

"Stay ... stay ..." Rosa whispered, stroking soft, warm fingers along his back.

Again, he felt tears coming to his eyes, but he buried himself in her neck, drying them in her hair.

"Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you," he murmured over and over again until it shifted to a single, "I am sorry."

"Sorry for what, my darling?"

He swallowed as he heard her appellation and tightened his hold on her. "Sorry that you did not feel the pleasure I did."

"I was not expecting it this first time. But you are whole and real and deep inside me. I feel that. I feel all of you. It is enough. At last things are so clear."

He pulled himself up suddenly and kissed her, kissed her so strong and hard her head was forced deep into the pillow.

And then, his cock at last soft, he drew back gently from her and crossed to the water jug warming by the fire. Bringing it over, he nudged her legs apart and cleansed her, cleansed the blood from her legs and her new sex, washed the memory of pain away.

She flinched only minimally, although she must still have been tender.

As he gazed at her body, blossoming, pushing up into the rubbing and soothing of the sponge, seeking out his touch still, that tight bud perched needily at the top, he knew what he must do. He could not leave her unsatisfied tonight.

"Rosa," he intoned, his dark eyes fixed up to her in the candlelight. She smiled tenderly, reaching for him again, but he remained out of her grasp and instead pushed her legs wide apart and knelt beside the bed, pulling her round strongly so that he rested between them.

She exhaled, unsure but expectant.

With a look up at her with eyes as deep and unfathomable as she had ever seen, he slowly lowered his head between her legs.

Rosa flung up a fist to stifle her gasp of amazement. His tongue had immediately found that sweet, secret bud that his fingers had entranced only a few days before. But this was beyond imagining; he knew what she was feeling. She arched immediately off the bed, her back rising off it to propel herself instinctively deeper against his wet, pliant mouth and lips.

Jasper reached up a hand to steady her, planting it with long, splayed fingers on her taut belly to press her down again. If she could focus on the sensations, absorb them all, they would tear her from reality. And he would do that for her.

"Lie still. Lie perfectly still and feel me," he hissed low.

Her hands flailed through the air, craving his return. With a grin, he settled himself back, flitting his tongue along her, teasingly at first, delicate, tasting her for the first time. She was nectar. He could feed on her alone. His mouth opened and he plunged onto her, sucking in the fleshy lips which ran along her, one at a time then both together, then back to that tight flesh sitting above them. He took it hard now and sucked, his tongue thrumming over it at the same time. She keened, her head thrashing, a sound akin to a wail pulled from her, a noise more heavenly than the greatest Bach chorale.

His free hand, the one not pressing her down, now explored up her thighs. He would avoid the sensitive opening his vast cock had just invaded, but there were other options.

Continuing to suck concertedly - he knew she would need a distraction - he coated a finger in the soak of her lust and moved it down, past the opening of her cunny, to that other tight little opening. Jasper grinned inwardly as he ran the tip of his finger lightly around it, so lightly she had not yet noticed. And then he prodded, ever so slightly, teasing. But with each prod came a lave or suck on her nub and he noticed only a further relaxing, a further exhale of pleasured breath.

He pushed the tip of the finger in. She sighed out. How responsive she was, how delicious, how perfect. He dared to go further. The tight flesh granted him entry, and he pushed harder, easing past any resistance. His finger was inside her to the second knuckle.

Only then did he sense her tense, but not with outrage, merely curiosity. He gave her another long lick. She moaned. "What are you doing?"

"Remember ... feel, only feel."

He attached himself to her once again and pushed deeper. She simply moaned contentedly and welcomed him. He worked to bring her to orgasm now, licking and sucking and stroking with regular persistency.

And then he felt it, that sweet moment of release when a woman forgets all she is. Her hands gripped his head, holding him hard against her and she moaned, long, a rising cry sweeter than any singing he had ever heard from her. Her body tried to throw itself up in ecstasy, but he pressed down again, forcing it to absorb the sensation inwardly and entirely. Her head pounded from side to side and the moan continued, heard only by him.

At last she settled and only then did he carefully extract his finger and remove his mouth after a final kiss on her sodden flesh.

And then, drawing the covers over her and bringing himself to lie beside her, he kissed the top of her head and encircled an arm about her. "Sleep."

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><p><strong>May be a bit of wait for the next chapter, I'm afraid. I've exhausted the 'written in a lust splurge when I was off sick' chapters. Hope you've enjoyed it so far. Thanks for the interest. x<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Ah ha! Success at last. I've been trying to upload this for a day and failed. Then an amazing thought occurred to me: Why not try uploading it from your desktop PC which runs smoothly all the time and has great wifi signal instead of from the dodgy old (but greatly beloved) notebook you were trying with from a place where the wifi is Very Low at best. And, what do you know, it worked! **

**So here we are. It's a new dawn, it's a new day ...**

* * *

><p>He knew she must return before dawn, but John Jasper did not fear that they would sleep through the time necessary for her to leave.<p>

He lay awake all night, gazing at the woman sleeping peacefully in his arms. Despite his continuing addiction, despite his nightmares of perceived reality, despite the perilous and scandalous position he had placed them both in, he was happy. For the first time in his memory, he was happy.

Rosa lay against his chest, her slight hand resting across his abdomen, so softly he could barely feel each finger. Her breath hushed out of her and tickled the hairs darkening his chest, but he daren't move her; he had no desire to.

She stirred occasionally, but not enough to awaken. He was surprised at how deeply sleep had overcome her; he had assumed she would be preoccupied with events, but her easy acceptance of all he had taken from her touched him as much as her gifting herself to him.

The muffled bells of the cathedral rang out four times and he realised they must soon part. But just as he prepared to wake her, Rosa opened her eyes. At first she stared blankly ahead as if unaware of where she was. He tensed, fearful of her realisation. But then her face turned up and he met those clear blue eyes.

Rosa smiled, the same smile she had bestowed on him after he had broken through her last night. "My love," she murmured.

He could not stop inclining his head to kiss her again and thrill upon thrill raced through him as she returned it immediately and desirously, her need for him as strong as ever. Her limbs, slender and sinuous like a sprite, curled about him and his cock stirred again, growing hard and rigid within moments. How he wanted to be inside her once more.

But John Jasper remembered himself. Breaking away from the kiss, he whispered against her ear, "How do you feel, my darling? Does it pain you?"

She seemed reluctant to move from his mouth, and slurred quickly between kisses, "It is far better. It simply aches a little; it is tender, no more."

"It will heal quickly, and then there will be no more pain."

Her hand had found the great stiffness of his manhood and was running confidently along its length. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at her audacity and skill. "When?" she demanded. "_When?_ I wish to do that again. I wish it so much. It is like a hunger. Now that I know what my body craves I can feed it."

For a while he could do nothing but let her ply him and build his pleasure. Her boldness and curiosity was compulsive and addictive, causing his mind to swim. He brought his hand between her legs and, gently and cautiously, avoiding delving into the sensitive flesh he had abused the night before, he quested and explored. His fingers were immediately soaked in her lust, and Jasper chuckled in revelation. "You are hungry indeed, aren't you, my Rosa? Have no fear. It need not be long. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night let us be together again." She groaned, partly with frustration, partly because his fingertips had just encircled and enticed that sweet little nub once again.

"Oh, tomorrow! But that is surely too long. How can I wait all that time for you? Certainly, I will go mad by then. Come for me no sooner than tomorrow night, John Jasper, and you will find me haggard and wizened with thwarted desire!"

He chuckled again, continuing his steady entrancement of her body. Jasper rolled over so that he was the one leaning over her now and moved down, pausing before taking a nipple between his smiling lips. "You can wait, my impatient little pussy cat. You must learn that anticipation makes pleasure all the more worthwhile." With a final grin, he brought his mouth down to suck at the tight, pink nipple and rubbed harder between her legs, still avoiding any lingering tenderness. Rosa arched up into his mouth. Her hold on his cock slipped, but he did not mind. At that moment, giving to her was all that mattered.

She released her pleasure with a soft cry of surprise, as if it had caught her more suddenly and strongly than she had expected. Her little pants of blissful relaxation afterwards were like the sweet ticking of the left hand in a pavane.

"Oh, my sweet. That will sustain me somewhat. How do you train your fingers to know a woman so well?"

He merely smiled and kissed her soft lips once more. "Now, Rosa Bud, you must go. We do not want the Misses Twinkleton and Tisher to be roused to discover one of their number missing. Will you be alright returning alone? It is agony to send you out into the dark. I cannot bear to think of it, but we cannot risk being seen together."

She sighed. "I will be perfectly alright. The Nuns' House is barely two minutes away. And if I am discovered by anyone, I shall simply say I had a frightful nightmare and wished to walk off the night terrors which beset me. People are accustomed to believing me."

He smirked. Her youthful arrogance amused and charmed him. With reluctant but assured effort, John Jasper pushed himself from his bed and shrugged on a long dressing robe over his naked form. He noticed her eyes lingering over him with clear appreciation. A ripple of pride ran through him, something he had not allowed himself in many years. He went to retrieve her clothes from the other room. "Come along. You must dress yourself quickly before the cock begins to crow."

She fixed him with her eyes and let her mouth curl up wickedly. Jasper smirked and tossed her night dress at her. "I do wonder as to the manner of conversation amongst you young ladies at the Nuns' House. I imagine Miss Twinkleton is rarely privy to the true nature of your curious little minds."

"Some of us are more curious than others, Mr Jasper."

"And for that ..." He leaned over the bed and kissed her long and deep before forcibly pulling her clothes over her head. " ... I am eternally grateful."

Rosa at last dragged herself up, shivering against the dank chill of the early morning air. Jasper bent to place her soiled slippers on her feet. "These are ruined, Rosa. There will be questions."

"I have others. It is well known that I often stray from the path in the most inappropriate footwear. I can dupe Miss Twinkleton easily enough."

"Were you always so duplicitous?"

"I was orphaned early, Jasper. As an orphan one learns to survive by whatever means necessary."

"Oh yes, I know it all too well. You forget: I too was orphaned young."

She smiled teasingly. "How perfectly matched we are already, Jasper! So much in common."

He noted her use of his surname again. "You may call me by my Christian name now, Rosa. I think, considering what has just occurred between us, that we have progressed beyond the formalities of such things."

She set her face firmly. "I like Jasper. I shall call you Jasper. It sits far more satisfyingly on the tongue than_ John_." Her nose wrinkled as she said the name.

"Ned called me Jack." His smile suddenly faded. It was the first time he had referred to his nephew in her presence for as long as he could recall. Her smile too died but quickly rose again, although more muted now.

"In that case I shall most definitely call you Jasper. One must cultivate one's own style of conversation and delivery, surely?"

"But of course," he smirked, fixing the ties of her cloak firmly about her and ensuring she was wrapped up against the cold of the darkness which still pervaded Cloisterham. "Now, go, Rosa Bud, before I change my mind and lock you up here, never to be released again."

Her eyes flashed for a moment and she raised herself on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his mouth. "Tomorrow night, my darling. How I shall dream away the hours."

"Keep busy. Can you come to me again the same way?"

"I shall ensure it. I will endeavour to be here as close before midnight as is safe. Be ready for me."

_Be ready for her?_ Every minute of each of his days was spent in anticipation of her appearance and approach. He scarcely knew how he could be in a state of unreadiness for her.

Jasper pulled her towards the door, and with a careful look outside to see if anyone was in the vicinity, which he reassured himself they were not, he motioned to her to go. But as she was leaving, Rosa curled herself around him suddenly, and again he found himself responding helplessly. She pressed into him, nuzzling against his neck, insatiable, surprisingly and intoxicatingly insatiable. With supreme strength of will he prized her off and held her firmly at arms' length. "Tomorrow night. I have waited so long for this, Rosa, even I can wait until then. And, I promise, this time I will make it like heaven itself for you. Go."

She smiled gently, and at last turned and slipped away, hurrying under the gatehouse and out through the shadowy silent streets which would take her quickly back to the Nuns' House.

xxoOoxx

Never had two days passed with such dragging torpidity. Jasper had an appointment with the Dean and Canon Chancellor the day Rosa had slipped out of his lodgings, which he hoped would distract him from her absence. But he found his mind wandering, and the Dean clearly became frustrated at the apparent inattention of his choirmaster.

"And the music cannot burden the cathedral's finances anymore, Mr Jasper. I increased your allowance last year in order to fund new commissions and purchases at your behest, but I find some of this new music most indulgent and unctuous."

Jasper at last listened in, his ire raised. "Perhaps you refer to the Mendelssohn oratorio recently purchased and performed, Mr Dean?"

"Mendelssohn? German fellow, is he? Hmm, I should think I do, although I prefer not to commit details to memory. It was certainly not English music I was referring to. Stick to Purcell, Mr Jasper. That is as much adventure as my ear can take these days, and I feel I reflect the majority of our congregation in that sentiment."

"Mr Purcell was indeed one of our greatest composers, but should we not try to extend and challenge the musical tastes of our congregation?"

The Dean and Chancellor both looked aghast. "Oh no," chided the Dean with inflated condescension, "I don't think so. Please make better use of your existing musical library from now on. There are to be no new purchases in the forthcoming year. Thank you, Mr Jasper. That will be all."

Jasper's jaw worked fast and he gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. The Dean looked at him over his spectacles with quizzical reproach and repeated severely, "Good day, Mr Jasper. The Bishop is due in a few moments. You may go."

Jasper at last stood and stormed from the room. The torment of having to work in such a stifling and cloistered world pressed heavily on him. He paced from the Deanery, his coat tails and scarf blowing with whipping indignation out behind him, but soon his mind turned to Rosa and he leant against the North Wall of the cathedral, picturing her naked form entwined in his arms, feeling her soft, warm body enrobed about him. He exhaled a deep breath of satisfaction and contented himself with passing time in expectation of her.

The night passed in lonely quietude. But his desire had been addressed so effectively that he barely took a drop of laudanum. Rosa was a balm not only for his lust, but for his troubled soul and body too.

He deliberately stayed away from the Nuns' House, thinking that if he placed himself in her proximity he would not be able to refrain from behaving rashly. He was pleased to note that she too did not attend Evensong on either day. And so day slipped into night and midnight approached.

He had remained relatively calm all day, but now John Jasper could not sit still. He paced his rooms, his senses straining to detect any indication that she was approaching, his face staring from the window at who may be coming down the street.

And just when the bells had struck the half hour after eleven o'clock he saw her, her cloak pulled around her, huddled into the hood, her little feet tripping lightly and silently down the street towards him. He opened his door and flew down the stairs to greet her. She slipped into the gatehouse unseen and he shut the door tight behind them, locking it. Then, not daring look at her, Jasper gripped her wrist and pulled her up the stairs to his rooms. Only then, when he had shut her safely inside, did he focus.

And focus he did. His hands held her face hard and suddenly, pulling her into him for a searing kiss. This time he could not wait for decorative restraint; forcing her mouth open with his lips and teeth, he plunged his tongue into her, devouring all she was. Rosa responded in kind, opening wide for him and rejoicing in the complete possession he so needed.

His hands scrabbled at her clothing, and she aided him. This time she was fully clothed beneath her cloak and at first it frustrated him, but his fingers were so quick with lust that he was able to undo laces and hooks and buttons faster than ever.

"My darling, my darling, it seemed so long. I have never known time to pass with such languor."

He stifled her protest with another kiss, even managing to rid her of her corset, so that soon all that kept him from that wondrous body was her thin cotton camisole and drawers. He pulled back to run his hands with appreciation over the form that awaited him.

"Oh hurry, hurry, Jasper, I have waited and waited as it is."

Jasper grinned as her own hands tugged petulantly at his cravat and waistcoat. He deliberately focused on ridding himself of these, smirking as he made her wait that little longer. But when she practically roared, his own desire reared up unstoppably and he tore at the rest of her clothes, soon revealing her naked and perfect once again. Forcing himself to step back, he stripped off rapidly then encircled her in his arms. Rosa curled around him, and he glided his hands down to cup the twin peaches of her bottom. With a little instinctive hop, in tune with his own desires, she leapt up as he lifted her. Her legs curled around him and the tip of his rigid manhood nudged against her sex. Rosa held herself tight around his neck, not taking her mouth off him, and allowed him to walk with her curled around him into his bed chamber.

As soon as he placed her on the bed, her legs opened for him and she pulled down, almost demanding his entry into her. "Come inside me again. I missed you. I missed you so much."

It would have been so easy to take her again as he had done the first time, but Jasper, as with his musical tastes, always sought to extend and challenge those he had the opportunity to enlighten.

He kept himself poised tantalisingly away from her, although his expectation had already dripped onto her thighs.

Guiding with his hands, he whispered darkly against her ear, "Turn over, Rosa."

Her eyes widened and she looked at him in confusion. He smiled and murmured again, pouring his inky seduction deeper still, "Turn over and kneel for me. Trust me, my darling. Remember what I said – I shall make it like heaven itself."

His hands urged her, and Rosa turned, exposing her backside for him. Jasper moved down and nudged her to draw her knees up so that her bottom rose high in the air. Pushing her ankles apart, he placed himself between them. "Oh, Jasper, what a sight you must be viewing. I cannot bear to think of it."

His hands stroked over her rump and he simply gazed with appreciative longing on the sight he was viewing. "Rosa ... you are my goddess, you are my perfect being."

"But what are you doing?" Her naivety enchanted him and he chuckled low before placing himself at her wet opening.

"What you desire."

And then he pushed into her. Rosa gasped with sudden revelation. Had she truly not realised? No matter what, she soon adjusted. "Oh, yes, my love, at last!" He pushed deeper still.

"Is there no pain?" he managed to inquire as he witnessed his shaft sinking once again into the woman he had longed for more than life itself.

She slurred out a no before pushing her body back to propel him deeper. He duly obliged and soon found himself in her completely, encompassed once again in the sweet succulence of her flesh. Jasper threw back his head in triumph and groaned with pleasure. But the noise which poured from Rosa was no less ecstatic, so different to the sharp cry of pain the time before.

"Oh, Jasper! I ... please ..."

Jasper steadied himself with a firm grip on her hips and pulled back, slowly this time, aware of his perfect position inside her. As he stroked over that place he had long since learnt to cajole within a woman, Rosa wriggled back and whined for more. He pushed along her again, relishing the impaling of his cock in her tight wetness in time with her little sighs of joy.

A soft gasp caught in her throat as he pushed through her again, and now he picked up a steady rhythm, thrusting fully into her before pulling back more languidly to nudge that spot, then in again, then back, and in again, slow and steady, slow and steady, until he sensed her need for more and gained speed, his fingers digging harder, his cock pistoning fast.

"Tell me how you feel." He surprised himself with his demanding tone but repeated it nonetheless, exultant in his ability to render her helpless with pleasure, desperate for her to come apart around him, on him. _"Tell me."_

"Separate from myself, separate from anyone but you. Joined only to you, living off you. Heaven ... like in heaven, my Jasper, my Jasper ... ohh ..." Her voice trailed off into a rising moan. Reaching a hand under her, Jasper found her swollen nub and helped tip her over with skilled and intuitive fingers. His own desire he held back with painful restraint, only wanting to release when she had climaxed. And when his cock hurtled deep and hard into her once again, and his fingers rubbed perfectly, she did. Rosa opened her mouth and cried out, calling his name loud in affirmation of her rapture.

Her orgasm was so strong that he felt it raging around the thick flesh of his cock and it took only two more frantic thrusts for him to come off in her, deep, hot and plenteous, his seed erupting from him, accompanied by those low baritone groans he had no desire to stifle.

When he eventually pulled back, his cock slipped from her, morose, as if in regret of being relinquished. Rosa fell forward, heavy with bliss. He lay next to her, his breathing coming hard, and turned to look at her. Her eyes were shut and she had a slight smile on her face, as if she was in deep contemplation of what had just occurred. But then her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him. Her smile broadened. "Heaven," she confirmed.

Jasper stroked down her cheek. "Just as I said. I am a man of my word."

She let him kiss her again and he pushed her gently so that she was lying on her side, her back to him. He nestled against her, fitting his body along her dips and swells. Reaching an arm around her front, he pulled her tight and stroked and held and nuzzled. "Was there any soreness this time?"

"Soreness? Goodness, no. I have never felt anything so far beyond pain. And to have you inside me at that moment, my love ... the feelings were stronger than the times before."

"That was the intention. Pleasure is wonderful when experienced in isolation, but when two lovers share it as close together as possible, with the man within the lady ... it is an epiphany."

"Lovers ... Is that what I am: your _lover?"_

He chuckled at the wondering innocence in her voice. "Yes, Rosa, you most certainly are. Does that not suit you?"

"I think so. I simply ... It is such an exciting, adventurous term. I never thought it would be ascribed to one such as me. Am I desperately wicked now?"

He held her tighter, detecting the slight catch of uncertainty in her voice. "No. You are my angel."

Rosa relaxed and smiled warmly, turning her head back towards him, inviting his lips to hers. He inclined his head and kissed her, unable to prevent his fingers stroking over her breasts, seeking out a nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. Instantly the woman in his arms responded again, her body becoming ever more liquid and pliant in his hands. "Do it to me again, Jasper. I want you inside me again."

He could scarcely refuse an offer like that, but even John Jasper needed some recovery time. He laughed softly against her warm skin. "In a while, my darling. Soon, I promise."

She groaned with clear disappointment. "How soon? I am ready now ... I am ready for you."

He chose to content her by nudging her onto her back and slipping down to take the nipple his fingers had hardened into his mouth. She seemed happy with that, conveying her pleasure with little sobs and sighs as his tongue tickled the tight pink flesh, as his lips tugged and pulled the nipples out, as his teeth grazed and nipped, occasionally so soft she barely noticed, at times with conviction, drawing a sharp gasp from her. But always her fingers remained tangled in his hair, holding him against her, and her back arched, propelling her breasts towards his mouth.

It did not take too much longer for him to rise yet again, and when Rosa felt his erection prodding her rump, she groaned urgently, "Now, please, _please, now."_

Jasper pulled back from her quickly and lay on his back, his desire suddenly as potent as ever. She turned to him, unsure yet again of his new actions. He quickly guided her, holding her hips fiercely. "Sit astride me, straddling me." Rosa did not hesitate. He manoeuvred her so that the searching tip of his cock pointed up between her thighs.

Rosa's eyes widened in awed anticipation of what she was about to do. He looked into her and smirked slyly, enjoying this moment of further enlightenment. "Down, Rosa."

With a pull on her hips, he guided her onto him, unable to take his eyes off his cock as it was swallowed up into her. He was stretching her, rising up higher and higher. She paused only momentarily, her breath hitching once, before continuing her progress. Down she sank, further and further, taking him deeper and deeper. Jasper now squeezed his eyes shut as his body was gripped in unspeakable pleasure. "Hell take me, you are magnificent!" he hissed.

She was at last sitting fully upon him, his cock deep and hard within her. Rosa's mouth hung slack and she rested her hands on his tight belly, her eyes staring down at her lover. When they had both absorbed the sensation of complete encompassment, he gripped her hips harder. "Now ... up again, slowly." She did so, taking her time, already reading his needs as well as her own. As she dragged her tight wetness over his cock, it caused him to moan loud and low.

When halfway back up him, Rosa sucked in a sudden breath and her eyes flared. She stopped and simply rocked. He knew why. He had found that place yet again, or rather, she had found it. It thrilled him to see the rapture cross her face. "Lean back," he urged. "Brace yourself with your hands on my legs." She did so and immediately sighed as sensation hurtled through her.

"Oh, that is so delightful, Jasper."

He grinned. She could have been describing one of Mrs Crisparkle's better apple turnovers.

But Rosa was lost in herself. She moved with controlled undulations, as if she had been practising and perfecting her art for years. Jasper watched, rapt, as her body moved on him, building his own pleasure but enhancing her own equally. For a while his hands held her breasts, enjoying the sway of them as she rolled on him. He almost forgot to attend to her tight bud, but at last he glanced down to their join, and there it was, perched just above where his thick flesh was gliding into her, ruddy and ripe for his attentions yet again. He reached down a thumb and stroked. Rosa cried out as her ecstasy nearly broke.

"Yes, yes, you are my perfect love, my perfect lover, Rosa. Let me give to you again, always, always give."

She moved more urgently now, nudging his cockhead against that sweet spot inside her. His thumb stroked and rubbed in hard circles and then she stopped suddenly, her head thrown down to lock eyes with him. But they were glazed, unseeing, and he knew she was coming undone. And then he felt it, more strongly than he had ever felt a woman's rapture around him. Her flesh clenched upon him and he exploded into her instantly, fast and sharp this time, focused with sudden violence as his essence shot out of his cock. He could still feel her, even after the relative swiftness of his own coming. Little aftershocks rippled her cunny, twitched against his cock.

And then, utterly spent, she fell forward to slump upon him.

For a time he could only stare up to the ceiling, astounded by her skill and ardour.

"Was I alright?" came a little voice.

Jasper almost laughed aloud. "My darling ... never has that question been more unnecessary and understated. You were ... beyond imagining."

"I have to say, John Jasper, I find you most inspirational. But ... I think ... perhaps ..." She yawned loudly.

"What, lover?" he queried, pinning her to him with an arm across her back. But her breathing had slowed and no answer came. For the second time, Rosa Bud had fallen asleep in John Jasper's arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh, he is lovely, our John Jasper. Can I keep him? (I'll ignore the less salubrious aspects ... )<strong>


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